If this day was over then I could recover. You know I would, if I could. The sun may get me before you do, but I can't let that happen. There's black at my front, and heat searing at my back. My hand goes through you, the bed. I'm on the moon, I'm in my head. Every time the sun goes down I sit around and think about. When you're gone so are the stars and I don't even think about it. The heat upon my back is brighter than the light ahead of me. And when you're gone so is the moon and I can't even think about it. My Moon.